Sunday, October 5, 2014


Dear Solstice,

It's me, Abyss again. I usually don’t communicate with the living this often. I see most of you in your dreams and at dead people parties (which you seem to call 'funerals'). Most would rather turn up their iPods so loud that my voice ebbs away. But you’re special, aren’t you? You like the silence. And let me tell you,

There’s plenty of silence when you’re dead. 

So many of us seem to view silence as the lack of noise. A simple nothing, a band without their instruments, an empty hall, an Abyss, if you will. 

Now, Silence and I aren't as similar as you'd think. We don’t talk very often. (We wore the same sweater to a Christmas party once, and it got weirder from there.) In fact, since we grew up together, we haven’t talked at all. I’ve seen her in town a few times, once at the post office and once at the library with Facade. (I think she’s into Facade, but he’s pretty mysterious.) Not a word has left our lips in the other’s direction in an eon.

I don’t regret this.

You see, there’s a difference between her and I. Yes, I like Cherios and she likes Frosted Flakes, I night and her day, I like my steak rare and she likes hers well done (I prefer to taste the blood), but there’s a more prominent difference than these apathetic concerns, some underlying notion of our outlook on the world, which is spread out before us like a Monopoly board. My dearest Solstice, would you like to know this difference?

Only one of us is at peace. And it is not I.

Your fixation,

The Abyss


  1. So awesome, this made me want to write again. I love how you brought Facade in to this.

  2. I have had your blog up for and hour just listening to your music.

    Just great!


Thanks for commenting! *Awkward high five*